


Unwrapped

by fondofit



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 02:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fondofit/pseuds/fondofit
Summary: If there was one thing Cor hated, it was the overly ornate, complicated and layered Citadel uniforms.Then again, there are times where he has learned to appreciate them in his own way...





	Unwrapped

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea that ended up being twice as long as I really intended it to, but I'm glad it's done. Finding good reference pictures of the uniforms are a pain! But here's some more CleCor love. Maybe a bit implied for Cor topping this time around? Maybe not? Let your imagination run wild! ;D

The thing about Citadel uniforms were that they were layered, shapeless gowns, draped over tight-fitting turtleneck and pants. The intricate cloak of double lined fabric could billow when walking and hang straight when standing; a feat not many designers could replicate. It was thick enough that the whole building would have to be set to a low temperature in order for the councilmen and women to breathe easy during the workweek. There was even the incident where the CItadel had become so hot because of a broken Air Conditioning unit that most meetings ended up being canceled for two days. They were unsightly, inconvenient uniforms that really served no purpose other than to keep tradition.

Cor had always loathed these uniforms. He hates how the the billowing seems to tease him every time he has a chance to glance Clarus’s way while walking down the hall at Regis’s side. Or how they made Clarus look like a shapeless blob when the older man was seated. No, Cor was not a fan of the outer cloak of these uniforms.

At least, not until now.

He finds himself without a reason to complain when Clarus, fully dressed in Citadel garb, tells Cor to sit and watch as the older man pulls him into his home office. Cor leans back in the plush leather chair, eyes following Clarus as he locks the door and stands before him. He stares in disbelief as Clarus begins to slowly remove each layer of clothing piece by piece, as if slowly unwrapping a package. It's ridiculous how much one outfit could cause such disdain and arousal at the same time. 

Cor can't handle Clarus’s intense gaze. Those icy blue eyes drilling into his own as his fingers glide over his chest. If there was one thing Clarus got with age was more filled out, his physique now was less body builder and more barrel-chested. Cor loves running his hands over the other man’s chest when he can, feeling the dips and planes of his skin. But just as Cor went to lift a hand toward Clarus, the Shield stops and shakes his head.

“What did I say?”

 _Sit and watch._

Was Clarus seriously thinking Cor was willing to sit here while he…

Cor snaps his hand to the side of the chair and watches the show unfold.

Clarus drops the heavy curtain of a cloak down to the ground, revealing the dark black, nearly skin tight outfit of the Citadel uniform’s inner wear. Clarus’s hands run across it, dragging his fingers lightly over his torso. Cor can't do anything but sit and watch, mesmerized by the sensual touches. 

Clarus’s hands then begin to play with the hem of his shirt. Cor’s eyes follow the fingers that gently glide over the cloth, slowly dipping the line between the shirt and waistline. Cor feels his heart speed up and heat flush his face as those fingers bring up the hem of Clarus’s shirt, slowly revealing the skin of the Shield’s stomach and abs. 

Clarus, by no means, was a small man. He was built and sculpted to be a wall meant to be reckoned with. Cor found that Clarus’s body was enticing the way that his jealousy drew him to the other man so many years ago. He never worshiped him, not his position in Regis’s entourage or how fit he was, but he was someone who Cor felt he could stay with and rely on despite the age difference. Their friendship (and the sex) was just a wonderful, wonderful bonus.

The Shield’s fingers run a few more swipes over the hem of his shirt before being pulled up to his chest. The cloth was now pulled up and taut between Clarus’s elbows, hiding half of his pectorals. Cor licks his lips without thinking, eyes refusing to leave the other man's body. There's a cock of Clarus’s hip as he moves to completely pull the shirt slowly over his head. 

If there was one thing Cor loves about Clarus’s body, it would be the long dance of tattoos covering his arms and back. He's traced them so many times by now that he could do it by muscle memory. His finger or tongue would follow the lines until they seamlessly repeat back into each other. The stretch of muscle has Cor dropping his jaw slightly as he watches the shirt pull over Clarus’s head and drop to the floor. The way Clarus’s body shifts from torso to hips now has Cor’s full attention. 

Especially since the next piece of clothing was Clarus’s pants.

With the shirt gone, Clarus drags his fingers down from behind his neck, over his collar bone, brushing his nipples with an added shuddering breath (which _HAD_ to be added for show, but Cor couldn’t find himself to care) before continuing over his abs to the belt buckle. The silver buckle has never been the center of Cor's ire or enticement like this before. He wants to rip the belt off, but at the same time he's so engrossed in the show he doesn't want it to end. Clarus’s fingers play with the buckle, unfastening it slowly before letting it loose with his pants resting on his hips.

“I had half a mind to keep you strapped to the chair, but you've been such a great audience this evening.” Clarus chuckles as his fingers run over the leather.

“You should keep it on unbuckled.” Cor mutters, catching Clarus’s attention. 

Fingers deftly glide over the leather of the belt hanging from the loops of Clarus’s pants. Clarus’s laugh is seen with the slight contraction of his stomach, Cor finds himself with an urge to run his tongue down the man’s happy trail only to nip at the conjunction of where his pants hung open. He leans forward as Clarus responds, “You like it when I’m disheveled?”

Cor drags in a breath as he nods firmly.

“You want the shirt on again?”

A snort and Cor replies, “Don’t you dare...”

Clarus laughs again, thumbs tucking in under the waistband of his pants. “Wanna come and get it?”

“I’ve got permission now?” Cor asks with a grin as he leans forward in his seat.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.” Clarus adds with a grin, his thumb running from the waistline of his pants to the silk of the band of his underpants.

Cor could feel the whine in the back of his throat as the he gets up from the chair and nearly falls to his knees in front of Clarus. He gets to work on touching the hard lines of Clarus’s lower torso, while lightly mouthing the growing bulge in the other man’s nearly-opened pants.

Clarus chuckles, his voice getting caught on a moan. “ _Astrals_ , if you’re going to do that, then I should strip for you more often.”

Cor didn’t need to answer directly. He would always hate the Citadel uniforms, but he found he would begin to love unwrapping the package underneath.


End file.
